Alas poor "Soul Shots," I knew thee well
Remember that battered old cassette tape, scratchy 45 or... er, that car commercial you loved so much? Wish you could have them back?
So do the ROUTE 1 readers who answered the following FRIDAY QUESTION:
Any songs or records from your past you wish you still had?
Scout S. -- With the advent of mp3s and illegal downloads, there is no such thing. Just yesterday, I had the theme from "The Greatest American Hero" stuck in my head. So I trotted over to the laptop, fired up my iTunes, and presto, the house was awash in the dulcet tones of Mister Joey Scarsbury. Actually, come to think of it, there *IS* one song. It's a jingle from a Mazda commercial, circa 1980. I get it stuck in my head all the time, and I don't know why. It's very jaunty, and it features a chorus of men and women singing:
"Sakes alive! Sakes alive!
Only Mazda's got a sporty truck
For just fifty-six ninety five!"
And then the following year, they changed it to "fifty-seven ninety-five" and ruined the meter. Which in turn, set my own wheels in motion to become a songwriter. My whole life is based on supply side economics. How sad.
Mary N.-P. -- "Wolverton Mountain" by Claude King in 1962. One of the oddest, but catchiest, songs I've ever been addicted to. Erik has it on a compilation album and is going to lend it to me. Yippee!
Mike M. -- When I was 3 or 4, my grandfather gave me an LP of John Philip Sousa marches by the U.S. Marine Band. I played it for hours on end, stored it in my toy box, and after a few years mended the worn-out album cover with a huge strip of green duct tape. I don't know what happened to my Sousa LP, but I wish I still had this gift from my grandfather, a man of great wit and humor, to pass on to my kids.
Roseanne H. -- I wish I still had all my old 45s -- Elvis, Fats Domino, Chubby Checker, etc, etc, etc. I don't even remember what happened to them.
Mike D. -- My brothers and I loved the "Funky Favorites" album, a Ronco compilation of novelty songs such as "Monster Mash," "Hello Muddah, Hello Faddah," "Junk Food Junkie," "Purple People Eater" and "Leader of the Laundromat." Those were the days!
Brian C. -- When I was about 12, I acquired some 45s (yes, vinyl) belonging to my uncle, who was about 10 years my senior. The collection included Elvis' "Won't You Wear My Ring (Around Your Neck)?" and Bobby Darin's "Splish Splash." In 1966, those songs were not considered "cool," and I lost track of those 45s. Wish I had those "classics" back.
Inger H. -- I can't really think of any music that I don't have now that I could not easily get again. What I do miss sometimes is how it felt when I was falling in love with something, though. One of the few prized possessions that I brought with my for my year-long stint in England was a cassette tape of Scritti Politti's "Cupid & Psyche." I fell in love with that record, as it blasted through my headphones, as I careened around in my heavy, clunky three-speed bike. I huffed up hills and got lost and got rained on and kept accidentally ending up on the wrong side of the road after making a turn, the whole time listening to those incredibly infective, poppy melodies. I will always remember riding that bike when I think of this record, and thinking about this record always reminds me of the curious freedom of wheeling around a place you don't yet know, wind in your face, something new around every corner.
Erik H. -- Don't you just hate those stories that begin: "I had this one cassette that I just played to death?"
Well, sorry. I had this one cassette that I just played to death.
It was the year after my college graduation and I was living in Sonoma County but commuting to work each day in Marin County. Traffic was horrible, but "Soul Shots," a a battered little cassette tape compilation of ABSOLUTELY SMOKIN' sixties soul, was wonderful.
It had Billy Stewart's "Summertime," Larry Williams and Johnny Watson's "Two for the Price of One" and Dyke & The Blazers' "We Got More Soul," among other great songs, and I continually blasted it out of the car speakers. The music raced while the traffic crawled, and that little tape sparked my lasting love affair with soul music.
Alas, that little tape is no more. I could order a CD version from the Rhino Records Web site or I could purchase the songs from iTunes and create an identical playlist, but it could never been the same.
So do the ROUTE 1 readers who answered the following FRIDAY QUESTION:
Any songs or records from your past you wish you still had?
Scout S. -- With the advent of mp3s and illegal downloads, there is no such thing. Just yesterday, I had the theme from "The Greatest American Hero" stuck in my head. So I trotted over to the laptop, fired up my iTunes, and presto, the house was awash in the dulcet tones of Mister Joey Scarsbury. Actually, come to think of it, there *IS* one song. It's a jingle from a Mazda commercial, circa 1980. I get it stuck in my head all the time, and I don't know why. It's very jaunty, and it features a chorus of men and women singing:
"Sakes alive! Sakes alive!
Only Mazda's got a sporty truck
For just fifty-six ninety five!"
And then the following year, they changed it to "fifty-seven ninety-five" and ruined the meter. Which in turn, set my own wheels in motion to become a songwriter. My whole life is based on supply side economics. How sad.
Mary N.-P. -- "Wolverton Mountain" by Claude King in 1962. One of the oddest, but catchiest, songs I've ever been addicted to. Erik has it on a compilation album and is going to lend it to me. Yippee!
Mike M. -- When I was 3 or 4, my grandfather gave me an LP of John Philip Sousa marches by the U.S. Marine Band. I played it for hours on end, stored it in my toy box, and after a few years mended the worn-out album cover with a huge strip of green duct tape. I don't know what happened to my Sousa LP, but I wish I still had this gift from my grandfather, a man of great wit and humor, to pass on to my kids.
Roseanne H. -- I wish I still had all my old 45s -- Elvis, Fats Domino, Chubby Checker, etc, etc, etc. I don't even remember what happened to them.
Mike D. -- My brothers and I loved the "Funky Favorites" album, a Ronco compilation of novelty songs such as "Monster Mash," "Hello Muddah, Hello Faddah," "Junk Food Junkie," "Purple People Eater" and "Leader of the Laundromat." Those were the days!
Brian C. -- When I was about 12, I acquired some 45s (yes, vinyl) belonging to my uncle, who was about 10 years my senior. The collection included Elvis' "Won't You Wear My Ring (Around Your Neck)?" and Bobby Darin's "Splish Splash." In 1966, those songs were not considered "cool," and I lost track of those 45s. Wish I had those "classics" back.
Inger H. -- I can't really think of any music that I don't have now that I could not easily get again. What I do miss sometimes is how it felt when I was falling in love with something, though. One of the few prized possessions that I brought with my for my year-long stint in England was a cassette tape of Scritti Politti's "Cupid & Psyche." I fell in love with that record, as it blasted through my headphones, as I careened around in my heavy, clunky three-speed bike. I huffed up hills and got lost and got rained on and kept accidentally ending up on the wrong side of the road after making a turn, the whole time listening to those incredibly infective, poppy melodies. I will always remember riding that bike when I think of this record, and thinking about this record always reminds me of the curious freedom of wheeling around a place you don't yet know, wind in your face, something new around every corner.
Erik H. -- Don't you just hate those stories that begin: "I had this one cassette that I just played to death?"
Well, sorry. I had this one cassette that I just played to death.
It was the year after my college graduation and I was living in Sonoma County but commuting to work each day in Marin County. Traffic was horrible, but "Soul Shots," a a battered little cassette tape compilation of ABSOLUTELY SMOKIN' sixties soul, was wonderful.
It had Billy Stewart's "Summertime," Larry Williams and Johnny Watson's "Two for the Price of One" and Dyke & The Blazers' "We Got More Soul," among other great songs, and I continually blasted it out of the car speakers. The music raced while the traffic crawled, and that little tape sparked my lasting love affair with soul music.
Alas, that little tape is no more. I could order a CD version from the Rhino Records Web site or I could purchase the songs from iTunes and create an identical playlist, but it could never been the same.
posted by erik hogstrom at 7:34 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home